AN: wow, life really sucks at the moment, I almost starting cutting again, but I know better (for the most part) yea I don't know if everyone knew that but I'm an ex-cutter (in case you all thought I still was), I haven't cut for almost 19 months, (a few slip ups but I used to do it deep, everyday, sometimes twice) I use my cutting poetry to express the feelings I long to feel again, but my damn mind knows better, damn maturity, it's killing me. But anyway on with the poem…

In the shattered glass

In the broken home

Of the girl without a face

Where the walls reek of depression

And the floors stained with blood

Where the longing to love, is gone without a trace

Razors welcome neighbors

Along the trails of her veins

Talented at empty greetings

Her demon calls for frequent favors

Pillows tainted with awkward dreams

As The world holds a gun to her head

She's a hostage to society

The painted smile, not what it seems.

Searching for you in the crimson on the floor

The slightest memory of you

Maybe even in her tears she yearns for you

Dripping scarlet now her whore

Ecstasy at it's best

If the shoe fits…

Burn it

Give the stereotypes a rest.